


Detox Just to Retox

by Boycott_Love



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Addiction, Cocaine, Domestic Violence, Drugs, Explicit Language, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Multi, maybe death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:23:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boycott_Love/pseuds/Boycott_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick has a big problem, well, he has several big problems: he can't get a grip on his life, he has to live in a broken home that's been shattered for years. He can't deal with any of it, so he turns to Snow White; she makes him forget, she makes it easier.</p><p>Pete is an entirely different story. His position is just as bad, if not worse, than Patrick's. Pete has absolutely no one. No family at all except for Brendon and Ryan who he shares a small apartment with and they're struggling themselves. </p><p>Pete and Patrick are both stuck in a world that desperately wants to rip them apart limb from limb and bone from skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pick Your Poison

Just one more line, one more will do me some good. Take the rolled up bill and inhale deep enough to make me light headed. It feels like tiny razor blades are slicing the inside of my nose but it makes the trip even more worthwhile. I'm flying past the sky, through space and straight to the stars. I touch down on the moon for what feels like a second before I come plummeting back down to earth. I crash land on my living room floor, reality punches me right in the face. Somebody just kill me now. More, I need more it wasn't enough, the moon needs me up there with it. It can't be alone. The two bags I had are empty, fuck, I could've sworn I had some left in the bottom of one. Shit, shit, shit, I need the dust, like, right fucking now or I swear I'll lose my mind. I get off the floor, feeling warmth trickle down my lips and chin. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand then wince when I see the the red painted on it. My nose is running from the blow. Instead of cleaning the rest of the blood from my face I grab my jacket and go out to find my dealer. My dealer? I never thought I'd be one to ever say that, but I have to say, the words tasted great. You'd never hear a soul utter those words in Glenview.

 Growing up in Glenview was.. normal, not that normality is necessarily bad or anything, but it was just _too_  normal. Normality in a place like that bores you to tears. The neighbors seem snooty and uptight although they're only living middle class and lower middle class lives. My parents didn't seem to notice I even existed half the time because they were to busy clawing at each others throats. Dad yells, mom yells right back. Dad swings, mom takes the hit. Dad walks out, mom cries. Dad comes back the next day to apologize, mom forgives him. Repeat. My brother Kevin would always let me sleep in his room when things got bad between them. It wasn't exactly normal by definition, but it was _my_ normal. But now's not the time to get lost in painful memories, the lack of blow was admittedly more painful.

 

It's that time of day where it's very late and very early all at once. It has to be at least 4 or 5am. I don't know. The sidewalks and streets are scarce of any other living being besides the occasional car driving by. I'm on my way to the usual spot; an alley way between a nightclub and an abandoned building that used to be a convenience store. The door and windows are boarded up, blocking the outside world from venturing in. I arrive at the alley way, it's pitch black and quiet which is what makes it so perfect for me to get my supply unnoticed. I walk through the dark alley, quickly making my way to the very end. Instead of finding my dealer leaning against the wall of the nightclub, I lay eyes on a man sitting against the opposite wall. I peek around the corner of the two buildings searching the connecting pathways behind them. Not a soul occupied the space except for me and the man against the wall. I stand there for a moment examining the body on the ground. He hasn't moved or made a sound. I can't tell if he's even alive due to the lack of light. It's against my better judgment to kneel down and check on him just to check if his heart's beating. My mind is telling me to just turn and leave the alley and come back later. There's a faint orange glow clashing against the blue of the sky, the sun's starting to rise. I got here too late, my dealer won't be back until night falls again. There's a small ray of light spilling into the dark alley allowing me to get a better look at the man. His head is down, chest rising and falling evenly, soft breaths escaping through his mouth that's slightly ajar. At least he's alive, I thought. I kneel down in front of him anyway.

"Hey." I say quietly while slightly nudging his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The man wakes with a deep inhale through his mouth as if he actually _was_  dead and was brought back to the world of the living. He looked as if he was afraid of me, he had dark pools under his eyes, he seemed jittery and his pupils were blown to shit.

"No, I-I told them I'd pay them back!" The man blurts. "P-Please just tell him give me more time. I don't even want it anymore I'm trying to kick the stuff!" The man sounds panicked, his eyes were wide and threatened by tears. "I just-, please..." He pleaded.

"Calm down, I'm not after you. I don't even know who you are or what the hell you're talking about. I saw you here and just wanted to see if you were okay." I assured.

His fearful eyes relaxed some but was only replaced with heat. "Okay? Am I okay?!" He scrambles up from the concrete and gets right in my face. "I'm losing my fucking head here. I'm in deep debt, my life is on the line, and I'm detoxing. I'd give anything for the powder just so I can feel normal again, but that shit is ripping me apart!" I step back and he starts to pace in front of me. "I've gotta stop. No, I need more. It's ruining my life." I watch him as his paces come to a halt and his eyes connect with mine once more. He slowly walks towards me, I slowly step backwards until I'm trapped between him and the brick wall of the abandoned store. He's in my face again, the fearful pleading eyes return. "Tell me, please tell me you have more." He nearly whimpers.

I shake my head quickly then say, "No I, um, I don't." just to make it clearer.

He bangs his fist against the wall right beside my head, I could feel the vibration of it on the back of my skull. "Then what fucking good are you!?" He nearly screams. He flicks his eyes downward, then points to my chin. "What the hell is that? Is that-"

"I'm out! Okay?" I blurt out. He's spotted the dried blood still left on my chin. Thinking back to it now I should've cleaned up before I left but I was in a rush. 

His expression softens, he looks as if he's about to cry. 

"Look, I'm sorry, really I am. I'm just a little on edge, I guess. I'm trying to get clean but it's... it's hard." He puts some space between us then tries to calm himself.

"How long has it been?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know exactly, a few hours, a day, a week. It's all been a blur."

We're both silent for a little while, he's looked away from me but I kept my eyes on him. He looked a mess. His jet black hair was filthy and sticking up in every which way. His shirt was ripped and his leather jacket was spotted with dirt and grime. He looked lost and alone, I couldn't help but feel bad for him.

I looked up at the sky, it was almost completely lit. "Hey, do you live anywhere nearby? Maybe I could walk you home."

"I live about an hour away."

"Seriously? Why are here?"

"Same reason you are." He replies.

"Just, uh, just come with me. My house is only five minutes from here, I could drive you home."

The man's brow furrowed a bit in confusion. "You don't even know me."

"Yeah, but I do know that you probably haven't slept right in maybe a week and you could really use some food. Trust me, I know exactly where you're coming from."

He didn't protest just followed as I made my way out of the alley.

 

I opened my front door and let him inside first. He hesitantly stepped in and waited as I shut and locked the door behind me.

"Patrick." My brother calls from the couch, I didn't think he would be awake. He gets up from the couch and I walk over to him, leaving the other man to stand awkwardly by the front door.

"What, Kevin?” 

"Where the hell were you?” he then switches his glare from me to the dark haired man. "And who is he?" Kevin points in his direction then crosses his arms over his chest, obviously annoyed. I catch the other man's eyes, then turn back to Kevin.

"Uh, he's, um a-"

"I'm Pete." He cuts in, thank fuck because I'm terrible at lying, then says, "We used to go to school together, we had band class." And forces on what seems to be his best fake smile.

"Whatever, just be home a little earlier next time. You'd better be glad I was home instead of mom or dad." He knows how much I hate being alone with them, they only notice I'm around when they try to drag me into their petty arguments or want me to pick sides. Kevin goes upstairs to his room. He was probably only waiting for me to get home.

"You can sit down and watch TV if you want, I'll go find something to eat."

He-Pete I had to remind myself, sat down on the couch but didn't make a move to turn the TV on, he just sat quietly. 

I searched the fridge for anything edible but all I found was a jar of mayonnaise and a half empty gallon of milk. That milk couldn't have been any good, I swear I've seen that same half empty gallon six weeks ago. Mental note: tell Kevin that we have to go shopping tomorrow.

The freezer is almost as empty as the fridge except for a bag of pizza rolls no one's even touched. I grab the bag, thinking there's no need for them to go to waste, and rip it open. I put half in the microwave and half in the oven to speed along the process.

"You sure it's okay for me to be here?" I hear Pete call from the living room.

"S'fine. Why, something wrong?" I call back. I leaned over and put my elbows on the counter, resting my head in my hand.

Pete stands and makes his way to the kitchen. "I just feel weird being here, I mean, I just feel like I'm intruding or something." He stared at his feet the entire time he spoke.

I scoff. "No dude, really, it's cool. I'm sorry if Kevin made you feel uncomfortable. It's still early, his pissy attitude should fade by noon." This actually makes Pete laugh a little bit. As cliche and corny as this may sound, the smile looks good on him. It's like the real him is trying to sprout through his damaged surface.

"Alright," He says. "As long as you say it's okay."

The microwave dings then I head over to take them out. I hand the plate to Pete and tell him to hold it for a second while I get the ones from the oven. I slide on oven mitts, take out the pizza rolls and set them on the counter to cool. I leave those there for Kevin to eat later.

 

Pete and I sit on the couch watching Ghost Busters while we share the plate of pizza rolls, commenting on the various special effects and how decent they were for that time. Pete even mimics the line "That's a big Twinkie" which, for some reason, makes me laugh way harder than it should have.

The rolls were finished off about three fourths through the movie. Now the credits were rolling and we were singing the theme song and laughing as if we've actually been high school friends.

"Thanks for the food, um, Patrick, right?

I nod.

"I'd love to crash here for a while, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep and my roommates are whiny bitches." Pete says, while he gets to his feet. "I can already hear the earful I'm gonna get once I open the door."

"They try to tell you what to do even though they're not your parents?" I ask, standing along with him.

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I know how that is. Come on, I'll take you home."

I take the empty plate and put it in the sink, deciding that I'll clean it when I get back since it's my turn to do the dishes anyway. I grab Kevin's car keys from the hook beside the front door. I do have my own car and it works perfectly fine, but my car's low on gas and I won't be able to fill it until tomorrow. As I'm heading out the front door I yell out "I'm taking you're car Kev. Be back in ten." although I'm not sure if he's awake. If he's not then, to be fair, I did say I was taking it this time so he can't bitch about it.  

 

The ride to Pete's place is silent. It's only a half hour drive, Pete mentioned earlier that he lived an hour from the alley. I brought this thought to his attention and he explained that it was an hour by foot, which makes sense.

Pete directs me to an apartment building down the street from a 7-11. I parallel park by the curb in front then shut off the engine. I wasn't planning on going inside with him, I just got tired of hearing Kevin's piece of shit car make that annoying rattling sound.

"Thank you, Patrick." Pete says, opening the door but not getting out.

"No problem, good luck getting clean." I meant what I said, I genuinely hoped for his success.

"Thanks," he smiled, stepping out of the car then bending down to speak through the open door. "You might want to..." He swipes his chin a couple times, gesturing to the dried blood still lingering on mine.

"Got it." I say, giving him a thumbs up as he shuts the door.

I start the car but don't drive off until Pete enters the building. Once he does, I wait for a car to pass then pull away from the curb.

 

Pete's POV

I watch Patrick drive off through the small window on the door, then make my way upstairs. The elevator's under maintenance so no one will be able to use it for a couple of weeks or so, even though it could be fixed in a few days. Lousy ass repair techs.

I take the stairs up to the third floor and quickly find my apartment number. I try the handle but it's locked, I hardly ever remember to bring my keys.

I knock on the door loudly then yell out, "Bren its me, open up!"

After a few moments I hear faint footsteps, growing louder as they came closer to the door.

"Who is 'me'? 'Me' could be anyone." Brendon says from the other side of the door.

"Dammit Brendon, open the door I forgot my keys."

"For all I know you could be some stranger who wants to rape me or take our sad collection of DVDs. Identify yourself."

Is he really doing this right now? I let out an annoyed groan, close my eyes then pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"It's Pete."

"Pete who?"

"Brendon!"

Brendon's barking laugh traveled from the other side as I hear the click of turning locks. The door swings open revealing Brendon whose over-energized smile reads, 'I just downed three cups of coffee with a pound of sugar added to each'. Coffee was like Brendon's nicotine patch, but replace the cigarettes with PCP. He's been clean for six days and counting.

Brendon steps aside and I walk past him, stepping into the living room.

"Where's Ryan?” I ask while plopping onto the couch, aka my bed.

"He's in the shower." He says, closing and locking the front door. "And for God's sake, remember to take you're keys with you when you go out."

"Yes mom.” I sigh.

Brendon sits beside me and changes the channel on the TV from Family Feud to Tom and Jerry. We watch Tom attempt to cook a duckling while Jerry saves the oblivious duck from the cat.

"How's Ryan doing?" I ask quietly.

Brendon's quiet for a moment before answering. "He's getting better." He responds without looking away from the screen.

Ryan was also a recovering addict. Heroin's a bitch that doesn't play fair. Ryan's arms and legs were covered in scars from where he'd stabbed the needle through his skin. He's on his second day of sobriety but the withdrawal is taking its toll on him. Some nights I hear him barge through the bathroom door, racing to the toilet so he can vomit his stomach contents into the bowl. It's like having the worst flu of your life that could go on for weeks or even months. If he's lucky it'll be over in a few more days.

"I don't want to have to send him to rehab," Brendon continues. "But if he relapses then I'll have no choice." He says sadly, looking down at his hands as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

"Don't worry, Ryan's a strong dude. He'll pull through." I assured, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades comfortingly.

It's silent now, except for the sound of Tom screaming from the TV.

"So,” Brendon perks up. "What did you do last night, anything fun?"

"Not exactly, but I did meet this guy-" 

"Tell. Me. Everything." He interrupts, turning to face me and folding his legs sitting Indian style.

I tell Brendon what happened the night before and how I met Patrick and how he gave me food and drove me home. I explained how Patrick also made me kind of sad but not because of something he did, it was upsetting to see someone his age fall into this lifestyle; he was so young and had such an innocent image. Why would he even _think_ of doing coke? He still has the rest of his life ahead of him.

"Well, maybe he's like an egg." Brendon says.

In my head I'm thinking, _what the hell_  , but Brendon tended to come up with sayings that sound really stupid but somehow to make sense.

"You can't tell what's wrong with it from the outside, you have to crack it open and check the inside."

"Um, I think I get that."

Brendon rolls his eyes then says, "If you get him to open up to you, then he'll spill the beans."

"I knew that."


	2. Past the Clouds and to the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter probably has some triggering elements in it and I'm not trying to promote (if that's the right word) drug use of any kind.  
> Enjoy all the same and tell me what you think. Next chapter will be up ASAP, promise.  
> ♥

Patrick's POV

Going grocery shopping with Kevin is always the most fun either of us have. It's the one time we can act like kids and do what we want without being told otherwise. It's also the one time Kevin acts more like my friend and brother than my second mom, or dad, or whatever. We never use our own money though, we use mom and dad's credit cards. What they don't know won't hurt them, and they shouldn't care because we're buying everyone food.

When we enter the Walmart Kevin heads straight for the shopping carts, detaching one from the front of the line.

"C'mon Ricky, hop on." I climb onto the front of the cart then Kevin pushes it forward, heading in no particular direction.

"To the junk food aisle!" I command.

"Aye aye, captain."

He starts to pick up speed, beginning a steady jog. Once we reach the snack aisle, which is crawling with people, Kevin stops the cart and says, "Looks like we have to play Speeding Ambulance. Sound the siren, we have a food emergency."

Without warning he shoves the cart forward, dashing along as I make loud noises resembling an ambulance siren, but when the people don't move right away I shout, "Move! Food emergency!” and they all part like the Red Sea.

Some of them stare at us like we're two idiots who were raised by pigs and some are laughing and amused, either way it doesn't bother us. I continue to wail as I pull various boxes from the shelves and drop them into the basket.

We're halfway down the aisle when Kevin jumps onto the cart, hanging onto the handle with one hand and grabbing boxes with the other while our speed slowly declines as we reach the end. Kevin steps down onto the floor, bringing us to a complete stop. We both peer into the basket, taking in our first catch of the day.

"So doctor," I look up at Kevin to see him smiling smugly. "What's for dinner?"

Kevin twists his lips to the side and hums in thought. "Uh, spaghetti?” he asks.

"Yeah, okay, but you have to cook 'cause I made it last time."

Spaghetti was our most repeated dish to have for dinner mainly because neither of us knew how to cook anything else that didn't require a recipe, mom and dad never cooked anything anymore and it didn't take long to make.

"Fine, but if I cook then you have to do dishes."

"Deal. To the pasta aisle!" I command once again.

I'm not sure how we mixed pirates and captains with doctors and an ambulance but whatever, who cares.

We grab everything needed for the spaghetti, collected cereal, milk, juice, frozen pizzas, (one large supreme and a medium meat lovers) and more pizza rolls because those are Kevin's favorite.

The fun is over by now, the both of us are trudging down the walkway making our way to the checkout line. Kevin's forehead is glistening with sweat from running and pushing me around with the combined weight of the food. My arms are sore from constantly flailing them around, grabbing at food and throwing them into the basket. I stepped down from the cart halfway down the cereal section. It was fun while it lasted.

There are two other people in front if us when we get to the checkout but luckily they don't have much with them. Once everything is paid for and bagged we head for the exit. We're almost out the door when I hear someone shout my name.

"Patrick!"

I turn around and see a face I know all too well.

"Hey Gabe. What are you doing here?"

Gabe holds up a six pack putting it into view. "Just came to grab some beer."

"Dude, it's like ten in the morning and you're buying beer?"

"Yup, sure am.”

"Hey Patrick," Kevin cuts in. "I'm gonna go load up the car, meet me outside when you're done talking." He walks out the automatic doors with the cart and heads to the lot.

"I have something you might want." Gabe says once Kevin's gone.

"I can't take it here, it's too public." I say, keeping my voice in a quieter tone.

"I could give it to you in the bathroom." Gabe suggests. "You have cash, right?"

"Yeah," I began to walk past him. "Come on, we have to be quick."

Gabe and I took refuge in the handicapped stall of the restroom. Thankfully, the entire place is empty. Gabe sets the six pack down between the toilet and the wall then pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

"How much do you want?" He asks.

"I can only spend fifteen, I need the rest to put gas in my car."

"Fifteen will hardly get you anything, but since you're one of my best and favorite customers,” he opens his wallet and pulls a little baggie from one of the folds. "Throw in an extra five and I'll give you a whole gram."

There's absolutely no way he's offering to give me a gram for just twenty bucks. That's like half price, whole grams usually run about forty or fifty depending on where you are. How could I pass up a deal like that?

I look at him incredulously "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

I reach into my pocket, grab my wallet and pull two fives and a ten from the folds. I hand over the cash and Gabe hands over the baggie.

"I'll just tell my boss that you only bought half a gram." He says while tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

"You sure they'll be okay with that?" 

"Yeah man, it's fine." He insists. "I'll catch you later, okay." He grabs his six pack then slides the lock on the door. "Pleasure doing business." He says as he leaves.

I wait until he's left the bathroom before I come out of the stall. The bathroom is still surprisingly empty when I leave.

 

The house is wrecked when we get home.

There's broken glass strewn all over the floor, the couch has been tipped backwards, there's even a crater in the wall as though someone punched it. 

"Are-, are we being robbed?" I ask in genuine confusion.

A loud thud followed by something breaking screeches through the air.

"No, dumb ass,” Kevin says. "It's mom and dad. They must be fighting again."

"Or having really rough sex."

Kevin laughs and punches my shoulder half heatedly. "Doubt it. Help me put the food away, we'll clean this other shit up later."

The heavy sounds from upstairs continue on while we put the food in their correct place. We no longer pay attention to what our parents do, they won't stop fighting no matter what. We've tried getting involved in the past. The last time we tried to butt into their business, dad sucker-punched Kevin in the face and broke his nose. I was more pissed at that than I was at mom and dad's constant arguing. I ended up tackling dad to the floor and relentlessly beating his face in and screaming "Fuck you!" repeatedly. Kevin had to pull me off of him and drag me outside when I didn't stop. 

We stayed out of it from then on.

After everything was put away, the noises stopped and dad walked out again. He'll be back later.

Kevin and I flipped the couch back into its original position then sat and watched TV for a while. The glass on the floor won't be cleaned up until after dinner. Maybe.

 

Six o'clock comes around and Kevin goes to the kitchen to prepare dinner while I continue to watch the irrelevant commercials flash on the screen. 

A couple minutes pass by when a knock is heard. Kevin pops his head out from the kitchen with the same questioning look on his face as I have on mine. We stare at each other for a few more seconds when he finally says, "Well go get it, I'm cooking."

I push myself off the couch and go to open the door for...

"Hey, man."

Pete.

"Uh, hey, what's up?"

Pete opens his mouth to say something but Kevin interrupts, calling from the kitchen.

"Dude, who is it?"

"It's Pete." I call back.

"Stop standing there like an idiot and let him in."

I roll my eyes then step aside allowing Pete to walk past me.

I close the door, Pete greets my brother, then sits on the couch.

"Wanna stay for dinner?" I ask. "We're having spaghetti."

Pete beams. "Oh my God, yes. I haven't had a home cooked meal in forever. We usually eat takeout and frozen dinners at my place."

"What brings you over here anyway?”

"I was in the area, I had to, uh, drop some money off somewhere and I didn't feel like going back home yet." He looks away when he says this. Part of me is thinking that he's not telling me the whole story, but It's not my business. We hardly know each other so I leave it alone.

"Dinner's ready." Kevin calls.

We eat most of our dinner in silence, Pete scoops the spaghetti into his mouth as if he's been starving. Around a mouthful of noodles and sauce Pete says, "This food is awesome." Kevin laughs and thanks him and I tell him to slow down before he chokes on a noodle.

After dinner, Kevin puts the leftover spaghetti in the fridge and I take everyone's plate to the sink, clean the dishes then head upstairs with Pete following close behind. 

It's awkwardly silent between us once we're in my room. Pete's sitting on the edge of my bed twiddling his thumbs and I'm in my desk chair, balancing on the back two legs.

"So, uh," I couldn't stand the silence anymore. "How's the getting clean thing going for you?"

He stopped twiddling then looked me in the eyes. "It sucks." He says plainly. "Probably one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do. Have you ever tried?"

I brought my chair back down onto all four legs. "Once. I only made it twelve hours before I caved in, then I had to get more." I thought back to that night, the night I met Pete. I was dying to touch the moon for a second time.

"For me, It's been at least a day so far. I've lost track of time, I've been awake for so long. It just feels like one long day."

It's quiet again for a few moments. I start to feel a little shaky and unsteady, but I really don't think it's from the silence. Shit.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Pete asks suddenly.

"Yeah, it's at the end of the hall."

The second I hear the bathroom door shut I grab my wallet from my pocket. I take the small baggie from the fold and toss the wallet onto my bed. I hold the bag between my thumb and forefinger and gaze upon its contents. That big cratered ball of dust in the sky awaits me.

 

Pete's POV

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. All this talking about coke makes me crave. But I've made progress, right? Exactly how much progress I don't even know. I've gotta stop thinking about it. The more I think the more I want.

I run the cold water and splash some on my face, trying to get a grip on myself. I start to feel hot, sweat is beading at my forehead. Is the heat on? Fuck. Coke, blow, dust. Now. I need it right fucking now.

I burst out of the bathroom door and head straight for Patrick's room to tell him I have to go. No need to be rude and just leave without a word. But when I open the door Patrick is very still but he's breathing. He's slouched and the nape of his neck is resting on the back of his chair, facing away from the desk.

I walk over and stand in front of him to get a better look. Something on the desk catches my eye. There's a razor blade, a rolled up dollar bill and a half empty baggie beside a CD case. Two neatly cut straight lines of white are on top of the case.

"Pete." Patrick's voice startles me. I look at him and his eyes have rivers of red in them and his pupils have consumed the blue of his irises. "Come fly to the moon with me." He coos. He sniffs then grins at me.

"I-I shouldn't..." I'm still trying to convince myself to back away.

"I know, I know,” he sits up straight in his chair then grabs ahold of my wrist with both hands. "Nobody should do it, like seriously, I shouldn't either but we do it anyway. Wanna know why?” He talks so fast it's almost impossible to keep up. When I say nothing he continues.

"We do it because it takes us away from all the shit and piss we endure in this world and it takes us to another one, a better one. And reality is for pussies who can't handle it."

Coked-up Patrick speaks in philosophies. 

Patrick points to the lines laid out on the CD case. "Put on your space gear and meet me in outer space." He smiles.

I stare at the lines for a moment before slowly walking toward the desk. The dust is calling my name. I really shouldn't but I want to so bad that it makes my chest stir. Reality hasn't done anything good for me, reality can go fuck itself, "Reality is for pussies." I say under my breath before I take the bill in my hand and quickly snort both lines, one in each nostril. I hold my breath for a few seconds.

"Oh," I exhale. "That feels so fucking good. This-, this shit is so, so good. How much did you spend?"

Patrick's already busy cutting six more lines. When he's done he downs three of them.

"Twenty." He sighs, sniffing and rubbing at his nose.

"Twenty?" I asked incredulously. I snort the last three lines.

Patrick nods then sits down on the floor beside his bed. "I know the best guy in the whole world." He raises his arms to signify the earth then laughs.

I take a seat on the floor beside him. "I feel amazing."

Patrick giggles. "Me too."

I look over at Patrick and noticed that there was a red stream running down his face.

"Pat-Pattycakes, you're bleeding."

Patrick looks down at himself as the blood starts running down his chin and dripping onto his shirt.

"You're a bleeder, huh?" I ask him, his nose still running ruby red.

"Apparently so.” He says while pulling at his shirt to examine it for more blood.

"Why are you so worried about your shirt? Your face is what's dripping blood." I say

He let's go of his shirt then looks at me. "My face can easily be cleaned. Clothes stain."

Good point, I thought.

"Twenty dollar nosebleed." 

"What?"

"You basically paid twenty bucks for a nosebleed, man." I explain.

Patrick looks at me blankly for a moment before he finally gets it.

"Oh man, that's kinda clever." He smiles brightly, the blood painting his teeth and lips red. "Or a face period." He adds.

I knock my shoulder into his. "Ah that's gross, dude." I laugh then he joins in.

The room falls silent once our laughter dies down for a moment before Patrick says, "Pete, you should stay the night."

"But, won't your parents-"

He cuts my sentence short. "They don't fucking care." Then he leans closer then whispers, "Stay the night."

I hesitate at first before I answer.

"Okay, sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still have a tight grip on your panties?


	3. So, let me get this straight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others. It's mainly meant to establish what's gonna happen next, so you get an idea. It also may clear some questions or some shit. But enjoy.

Brendon's POV

There was a movie marathon on tonight; Star Wars. It wasn't my most favored movie in the universe but I didn't mind watching. I had nothing better to do anyway.

I was sipping on my second cup of coffee when I heard Ryan emerge from our bedroom, sleepily dragging his feet over to the couch.

Ryan has serious bed head and his eyes were barely open, looking as though everything in his sight needed to be squinted at. His long arms were wrapped around his torso, hugging himself.

He shoves Pete's blanket and pillows aside then sits with one of his legs tucked underneath him.

"Everything okay?" I asked gently.

"Yeah," He mumbles. "But I'm cold."

"Well, wrap up in Pete's blanket. He probably won't care."

Ryan gives me a look. "Oh no, definitely not. He probably jerks off under it while he watches Harry Potter."

I made a disgusted face. "Never mind."

I took a few sips from my mug and stared at the TV for a while.

Ryan and I sat quietly and uninterrupted, other than Ryan going into our bedroom to grab the blanket from our bed and wraps himself in it.

Ryan's withdrawal symptoms have  slowed up a bit. He hasn't vomited at all today and he's not as drowsy anymore but he still has slight hypothermia. He's much better than he was yesterday.

Halfway through the first Star Wars, Ryan lays across the couch with his head resting in my lap. I readjust slightly then continue to sip at my coffee while gently combing my fingers through Ryan's hair.

A knock on the door startles us. Well, it was more like someone pounding on the door with their fist. 

I look down at Ryan.

"Feel like seeing who it is?"

He hesitates a moment. "Nope, not really." He says as he sits up from my lap. 

I set my mug on the stand beside the couch then walk across the living room to the door.

"Who is it?" I yell to the other side. No one answers.

I twist the lock then cautiously crack the door open, peeking through the small space.

"Yes?" I ask the tall, dark and heavily tattooed man standing in the hall.

"Hello," The man says. "Is it alright if my associate and I come in and speak with you? It'll only take a few minutes."

I widen the opening in the door, seeing a shorter man with a mess of thick curls.

"Um, yeah, sure." I step aside and let them in.

"Is everything okay?" Ryan asks worriedly as I lead the men to the couch.

I nod then sit beside him, the taller man takes a seat on my other side. The one with the curls stands beside the couch with his arms crossed,watching the TV.

"I'm looking for Pete." The brown skinned man says simply.

"Um, what happened, what did he do?" Ryan asked.

"He owes me money." I'm so glad this guy cut right to the chase, because I really don't feel like hearing a goddamned speech.

"So, he's in debt?" I asked him. This was news to me.

The man nods.

"Well, Pete hasn't been here all day and I'm not sure when he'll be back but-"

Ryan cuts in. "We could take a message for you Mr...."

"Travis." He gets up from the couch. "Tell Pete that he has three days to give me my money." Travis heads toward the door and the curly haired man follows behind him. He opens the door but before he leaves, he turns and says, "Thanks for your time." Then he and his associate are out the door.

"This can't be good." Ryan mutters.

"We have to tell him. Where's your phone? Call him right now."

 

Patrick's POV

Pete and I were lying on my bedroom floor, facing the ceiling. The blissful high has died down, and now I just felt tired. But Pete seemed to be wide awake.

Pete's phone goes off, a high pitch default ringtone filling the once silent room. It rings twice and Pete still hasn't picked it up.

"Pete," I groaned. "Answer your fucking phone."

"I can't. Its all the way over there," He points to the empty space under my desk where his phone is still screeching. "And you're closer. Answer it for me?"

"I am not your secretary." I say, but I grab the phone anyway.

It stops ringing but Pete doesn't seem to care. 'Missed call from Ryan' the phone reads.

"Ryan called." I told him. This gets Pete's attention and he looks at me incredulously.

"Ryan never calls unless there's...shit." He sits up, snatches the phone from my hand and immediately calls Ryan back.

"What happened?" Pete says into the phone once Ryan picks up. "What?.....I know, I said I'd pay him....that's not enough time..... how am I gonna.... that's not fucking fair....Shit!" Pete hangs up and drops the phone onto the floor.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"I owe someone money and I have three days to pay them. I'm gonna fucking kill Gabe, this is all his fault." He speaks angrily.

"How do you know Gabe?" I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest.

"Gabe used to be my dealer," Pete looked at me then looked away as if he was ashamed of his answer. "He gave me two hundred dollars worth of coke and said it was on him, said he'd pay for it himself. He had no idea how much that coke was worth. Then Gabe disappears and I'm getting threatening phone calls and surprise visits whenever I went out." He sighed.

"Wait, if Gabe disappeared then why were you in his alley?" I asked him.

"The owner of the club next to the alley had me kicked out when I got drunk and tried to pick a fight with the bartender." He chucked slightly. "I don't even remember why I started it." His expression changes to sudden realization. "Whoa, whoa, hold on, back up." He turned to face me. "How in the hell do you know Gabe?"

"He's my dealer, I bought that dust from him this morning." Pete seemed stunned by my words and stared at me for a moment, unbelieving.

"Gabe is officially on my hit list." He says finally. "I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"Before or after pay your debt." I giggled.

Pete sends a glare my way then punches my arm."Fuck you, s'not funny." He mumbles, I continue to laugh at him anyway.

Pete and I lie back down into the floor, gazing at the ceiling. I've known Pete for three days now, and by what he's told me, I can already tell that I'm going to get wrapped up in his shit. But honestly I don't mind very much. I could help him get the money, that's not a big deal. I mean, it's not nearly as much as you would hear about in movies where people would owe thousands of dollars to loan sharks.

I don't know what'll happen if Pete doesn't get the money but I can take a wild guess.

I get the feeling that I'm being pulled into a situation that'll be more than I've bargained for.


	4. Don't Do This To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be written in 3rd person. Why? Idk, just roll with it.

Patrick wakes up on his bedroom floor early the next morning, he didn't even remember falling asleep last night. He rubs the sticky grime from the corners of his eyes then gets up from the floor. Pete has gone downstairs to watch TV soon after Patrick fell asleep the night before. Pete didn't sleep.

Patrick finds Pete downstairs, laying on the couch and watching some cartoon Patrick's never seen before. 

"Morning Patty." Pete says without looking from the screen.

"Quit with the nicknames." Patrick mumbles. He lifts Pete's legs and sits down, placing Pete's legs in his lap. "What are you watching, anyway?"

"Uh, I don't know. Whatever cartoon that comes on Saturday mornings."

Patrick hums a response. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, man." He beams, looking over at Patrick. "Pancakes?"

"No, french toast and bacon." Patrick shoves Pete's legs from his lap and goes to the kitchen.

"Even better." Pete smiles and follows him.

Patrick prepares breakfast for them while Pete sits on the counter and talks about roommates. How Brendon has enough energy to single-handedly run the city's electricity and how Ryan had the fashion sense of an old man but somehow pulled it off. He even spoke briefly about his parents but he didn't go too far into that subject. Patrick could tell that Pete wasn't ready to discuss it just yet.

The doorbell rings right when Patrick finished cooking. Patrick isn't entirely sure who could be at the door, it's a little early for company.

"Want me to get it?" Pete asks.

"No, just make your plate. I'll get it."

Patrick opens the front door and finds his friend Joe standing on his porch.

"Hey man," Patrick smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to grab something for my mom and thought I'd stop by while I was out."

"Cool." Patrick steps aside and lets Joe inside the house.

Pete's sitting on the couch with his breakfast in his lap and a mouth full of french toast.

"This is Pete." Patrick says as Pete looks their way. "Pete, this is Joe. We've been friends since kindergarten."

Pete waves at Joe and does his best to smile around the food in his mouth then goes back to his breakfast. Joe smiles and waves back at him.

"I just finished making breakfast, there's some extra if you want some."

"Can't say no to free food."

 Joe goes with Patrick to the kitchen, they both make themselves a plate then join Pete on the couch.

 

Joe is pretty laid back. He's really chill and seems to go along with anything that Pete comes up with. And Pete comes up with some weird topics. 

"If flowers had emotions, do you think they'd cry if you pulled them from the ground out of boredom?"

Patrick gives a look as if he's actually thinking about it, like it's somehow logical.

"Maybe. But If they had vocal chords, I think they would scream and call you something like a 'murderer' or a 'deflowering little bastard'." Joe says.

 

Joe leaves an hour later. He said he didn't want his mom to yell at him for not bringing the laundry detergent and dish soap home, which was so  _desperately_ needed.

 

It's still early. Breakfast was finished off, all the good TV shows have ended, they couldn't play video games because Kevin was the only one with a system and he hated to share, especially with Patrick. There was absolutely nothing to do. Pete even tried to keep himself busy by counting his hair in which Patrick had told him was a very dumb thing to do because it was impossible; Pete counted 228 strands before he got bored with that. He even tried to sneeze with his eyes open, twice. Pete failed the first time but managed to keep one of his eyes open on the second one. Patrick was entertained by Pete's efforts and laughed at the faces Pete made in the process.

"You look like you have to shit."

"Dude, it's harder than counting my hair."

"Counting  _all_ of your hair is not even humanely possible." Patrick says. "But it is possible to sneeze with your eyes open."

"Let's agree to disagree."

This kept them occupied for about six minutes.

"Patrick."

"What?"

"Patrick."

"What, Pete?"

"Paaatrick."

Patrick ignores him this time.

"Patrick, I'm bored."

"What do you want me to do about it?”

"Make me un-bored." 

"That's not a word."

"It is now."

Pete is acting like such a child. Patrick kinda wants to strangle him right now so he can sulk in his boredom in silence. But he also kinda likes Pete and his company so he resists the urge.

"Hey, Patrick?"

Patrick just glares at him, expecting a repetition of his name if he answers.

"Wanna meet my roommates?"

"Sure, why not."

"Can I drive?”

Patrick grabs his keys from the stand beside the couch and holds them out. When Pete reaches for them Patrick pulls them away. Pete looks like he's been kicked and Patrick laughs.

"No, you can't drive my car. Maybe some other time." Patrick smirks.

Pete lightens up and grins widely, showing off his giant white teeth. "I'm going to hold you to that."

 

***

 

"Open up, it's Pete!" Pete shouts after knocking on the ugly, puke green door of his apartment.

Ryan opens the door, thank God, because Pete really didn't feel like being pestered by Brendon through the door.

"Where the hell have-" Ryan's just about to act like he's Pete's mother before he notices that Pete isn't alone and quickly changed his tone.

"Well, come on in."

Pete and Patrick step into the small apartment and Ryan shuts and locks the door behind them.

Brendon is curled up on the end the of the couch watching the movie Airheads. Ryan sits on the opposite end and Pete plops onto the empty cushion between them, pulling Patrick into his lap. Patrick squirms a little and Pete wraps his arms around him to make him be still. When Patrick gives Pete a 'what the fuck' look, Pete just smiles in a way that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. For some reason Patrick's expression softens at this, his cheeks turn ruby red and he stops squirming.  _Since when did butterflies exist in my abdomen_ , Patrick thinks.

"Guys, this is Patrick." Pete announces.

"So this is the Patrick you've told me about." Brendon says with smile as he examines Patrick. Patrick blushes some more and if Pete's skin was as fair as Patrick's, he'd be a tomato.

"That's Brendon." Pete mutters to Patrick.

"Wait, why didn't anyone tell me about this?" Ryan complains.

"And that's Ryan." Pete says.

"You were showering at the time." Brendon counters.

"You could've told me when I got out."

"It slipped my mind."

The whole argument makes Patrick feel awkward, well more awkward, because Brendon and Ryan were on opposite ends of the couch and Patrick and Pete are literally in the middle of their squabble.

Ryan pouts then crosses his arms over his chest. Brendon goes back to watching the movie, doing his best to ignore Ryan's childishness.

"Well, uh," Patrick gets everyone's attention and it kind of makes him want to stop talking but he continues anyway. "Nice to meet you guys."

Brendon and Ryan immediately perk up and smile at him, simultaneously saying 'nice to meet you' and 'glad you're here, Patrick' and some other greetings that no one could quite catch.

 

Patrick and Pete spend most of the day there. Kevin calls Patrick at one point to ask where he is and Patrick simply said that he was with Pete. Ryan grabs some beers from the fridge and demands that everyone drinks at least one, which is no problem for anyone.

Except for Patrick because he's a total lightweight.

Everyone else has had at least three and Patrick has had one whole bottle and a third of a second. And somehow he is drunk enough to try and cut Pete's bangs with his fingers.

"Dude, how do you live with these things in your face all the time?" Patrick slurs while he grabs a tuft of Pete's hair with one hand and makes scissors with the other.

Pete's also intoxicated. Maybe not as much as Patrick is but his head still feels two miles wide.

"Nooooo,” Pete whines while trying to bat Patrick's hands away. "The bangs stay where they are. H-how would you feel if I tried to, uh, steal your pants?"

Patrick stares at Pete like he's stupid, which is partially accurate at the moment, then barks out a laugh.

"Why my pants? I kinda need these 'cause my lower half gets cold." He says because saying 'legs' is so overrated.

"Aw it's okay," Pete giggles, hugging Patrick tightly and placing his cheek on Patrick's chest. "I'll keep your lower half warm."

 The butterflies in Patrick's stomach turn into a swarm of angry hornets.

"Get a room you two." Brendon mumbles.

"This living room _is_ my room. You guys, you guys are in my room." Pete's words are muffled from his face still being pressed to Patrick's chest. The vibration of Pete's voice travels through Patrick's torso and makes him giggle. 

"Guys." Everyone looks Ryan's way. "Shutup." Ryan deadpans.

Surprisingly, everyone does.

 

Twenty minutes pass and in that time Brendon makes coffee and drinks two cups, Ryan complains about a headache and goes to his room, and Patrick falls asleep while sitting in Pete's lap with his head resting on Pete's shoulder.

Pete thinks he should probably take him home or something but he knows he's drunk and shouldn't drive. But if he wakes Patrick he could drive himself home. Oh wait, Patrick's drunk too. So maybe Pete should call Kevin to take Patrick home. Yeah, that seems more logical.

Pete gets Patrick's phone from his pocket and looks for Kevin's name in the contact list. Once he finds it he hits the call button.

Kevin picks up after three rings. "Hello?"

"Hey, uh, it's Pete."

"Is Patrick okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He might have had too much to drink though, so um, it'd probably be best if he didn't drive."

"Oh, he must be wasted then." Kevin says nonchalantly. "He's such a fucking lightweight, I'll come get him."

"What about his car?"

"Grab his keys, you can drive it over tomorrow since you'll probably be coming over anyway."

"Yeah you're right, I probably will. I'll send you the address and I'll bring him outside when you get here."

"Alright, man."

Pete hangs up and texts the address to Kevin. He grabs Patrick's car keys from his pants pocket and puts them into his own. Now there's nothing to do but wait as Patrick heavily sleeps in Pete's lap.

 

Some time later Kevin calls Patrick's phone and says he's outside. Pete puts the phone back into Patrick's pocket and, instead of waking Patrick up and making him walk, he tosses Patrick over his shoulder. Patrick doesn't even stir.

Patrick's not very heavy so hauling him down to his brother's car isn't much trouble.

Pete lays Patrick down in the back seat and Kevin looks like he's about to fall asleep.

"Be careful on the drive home." Pete says as he closes the back door as softly as possible so he won't disturb Patrick.

"I will." Kevin yawns. "Thanks for looking out for Patrick."

"No problem."

Kevin drives off and Pete goes back inside the building. When he gets back into the apartment, Brendon has fallen asleep on the couch, sitting upright with his head against the wall. Pete's too tired to make Brendon move and go to his own bed so he just lays in the space that isn't occupied by Brendon's scrawny ass.

Pete falls asleep almost immediately once his head hit the couch cushion.

 

 ***

 

Ryan is the first to get up the next morning, well afternoon; its almost one.

He nudges at Brendon's leg with his foot to wake him.

"Coffee'll be ready soon." Ryan says then heads to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Brendon blinks a couple times, grumbles something like 'whatever' and slides his eyelids shut again. 

Pete's phone goes off with the terrible sound of his default ringtone. Why couldn't he change it to something more enjoyable, like a song or something?

"Oh my god." Brendon groans while trying to block out the noise with the palms of his hands. "Pick it up, Pete!"

Pete is either ignoring it or he's still asleep, but even Pete can't ignore that dreaded default screech. So, since Pete has yet to wake up, Brendon reaches over him to grab the phone from the end table. The caller ID says it's Patrick.

"Hello?" 

"Pete?" It's a voice that Brendon doesn't recognize.

"No this is Brendon, his roommate. Pete's sleeping."

"You have to wake him up, right now. It's an emergency." The voice sounds panicked. Brendon shakes Pete, then shakes him harder when he doesn't get up. 

"Wake up, dumb ass." Brendon shouts into Pete's ear, making him jump. Pete glares but Brendon just shoves the phone at him.

"Hello?" Pete yawns.

"Pete!"  It's Kevin calling from Patrick's phone.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Pete sits upright on the couch, now fully awake.

"Please tell me you've seen Patrick."

"No, not since last night. He's not home?"

"I wouldn't be calling if he was." Kevin points out. "He always has his phone with him, he'd never leave it here. I think Patrick's missing."

Pete's heart drops into his stomach.

"Shit, shit, shit, no." Pete mumbles to himself as he grabs his hoodie from the floor and quickly hops off the couch and bolts out the door before Brendon or Ryan could ask what happened.

 

***

 

Patrick can't move. His wrists are bound behind his back by something rough and it's making his skin chafe. Maybe rope.

Something is also over his eyes, making the world dark and Patrick is scared shitless. He can't even hear anything, it's dead silent. Patrick tries to stand but his feet are also bound. He could be anywhere. The only thing he's sure of is that he's sitting on a hard floor with his back against a wall. It's seriously uncomfortable.

The sound of door hinges squeak in the silence. Someone's coming in. Patrick now knows the room he's in must be empty because the sound of someone's footsteps bounce off the walls. The echo makes his ears hurt

Patrick's heart begins to race. What if whoever kidnapped him wants him dead? But what exactly has Patrick done? He hasn't stolen any cocaine, he always paid. He didn't even have a criminal record. His life has only just begun, he's only eighteen he can't die yet!

The steps become louder. Patrick's visibly shaking now. The footsteps finally come to a halt in front of him and someone lifts the blindfold enough for Patrick to see. It takes a second for his eyes to focus on the figure in front of him. The first thing he sees is, what looks like, a brown cloud.

When his eyes finally adjust, the cloud turns out to be a mess of curls. He catches the sight of big blue eyes that belong to....Joe?

"What the fuck is going on?!" Patrick yells once he sees that his friend isn't making a move to untie him.

"Patrick." Joe says slowly. "I am so, so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly thinking of deleting this whole story. Idk, I have the rest of the story planned out but I'm not sure if I'm feeling this fic anymore. Haven't completely decided yet but I'm about 60% sure that I wanna get rid of this.
> 
> Might orphan it.


	5. Double Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tons of dialogue and some cliché song lyrics disguised as dialogue.

Joe's POV

Things weren't supposed to turn out this way. No one else was supposed to be pulled into the crossfire, just one main target and no innocent bystanders. But there's nothing worse than having to kidnap and possibly hurt your own best friend whose practically like family to you. Trav knew I didn't want to, he knew that Patrick was my friend but he told me that I can't be soft on anyone if the job has to be done. He should've used someone who didn't know him at all. I always heard from the others that if Travie chose you to go with him for a meeting then he had a job planned for you. I never would've guessed that I would be standing by his side when going to see those two guys Pete lived with. And on one of my off days, I actually saw Pete with my own eyes at Patrick's house. He was with Patrick, eating breakfast with Patrick, being friends with Patrick and when I sat with both of them Pete was nothing like how I imagined. Travie made him sound like such a terrible person, a lowlife dog, were his exact words. But he seemed normal, he acted like a lonely teen who was seeking companionship although he was obviously older than Patrick and I. He wasn't a bad person, just misguided and alone and I hated the fact that Travie couldn't see that Pete was simply misunderstood.

I went over to shipments with Gerard and Frank, which was my original job, when I first joined Trav and his gang. But none of the shipments were being handled because Frank was doubled over and puking up his stomach contents between the ledge he was standing on and the wall that supported the roof outside. Gerard was beside him rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades.

"Is he alright?" I asked as I approached them.

"Yeah, he just," He pauses. "Drinks a little too much, sometimes."

Frank is in love with the most beautiful women he knows named gin and vodka. A bad combination.

Frank continues to hurl over the ledge and braces his hands on his knees.

"So," Gerard says. "Any luck with that guy boss has been whining about?"

"Not exactly, I really think he's going a little to far with it. It's only two-hundred, he should be punishing Gabe not Pete and Patrick."

Gerard's brows knit together in confusion. "Who?"

"Pete owes the money and Patrick is our mutual friend that Travie had me tie up in the empty storage room."

 Frank spits a few times, trying to get the remains of his insides out of his mouth. He straightens up and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

"When he gets the money he'll let the kid go." Frank says. "But if Pete is late by even a minute, Trav'll start breaking fingers."

Frank looks down and grimaces at the discolored mess splattered all over the concrete below.

"That shit looks gross." Frank mutters.

"Oh gee Frank, no, it's really quite pleasant," Gerard says sarcastically then twist his face in disgust. "Except for the smell." 

"Yeah I'm gonna go, that smells horrible." I announced.

I went back inside and headed toward the storage room. I'm going to make sure Pete is on time with his payment.

I stepped into the room and walked over to Patrick's motionless form. He heard me approaching him and scooted backwards to the wall. His body was wracking in fear.

"It's me." I assured.

"What the fuck do you want, you put me here in the first place!" Patrick snapped.

"I know." I kneeled beside him and slid the blindfold down until it hung loosely around his neck. "But I didn't have a choice. Travie sees you as something valuable to Pete."

"Valuable? I've known Pete for less than a week, I hardly know him."

"Well, I'm going to help anyway. I'll talk to Pete and maybe call in some outside help, Travie can't do anything to you unless Pete is late." Patrick's hateful expression starts to fade, he knows I would never betray him like this.

"You'll probably want to check my house first." Patrick says.

"Uh, why?"

"Because Pete is  _always_ there."

I smirk at him. "You. Are. Awesome." I placed the blindfold back over his eyes and told him not to worry. "I'll be back."

"Well hurry up, these ropes burn like Hell."

"I'm not the Flash, Patrick. My hair isn't made for aerodynamics." I hear Patrick chuckle, despite his current position, and I leave him alone once again in the empty room.

 

Pete's POV

Kevin was pacing back and forth worriedly. Patrick has left without telling anyone where he has gone before but he would always have his phone with him, as Kevin has told me. We're outside on the front porch trying to figure out where Patrick has gone, I have an idea of where he could be but I've got to consider other possible areas. I'm getting bored watching Kevin pace around, if he keeps it up he'll walk a hole in the floor.

"I'm sure Patrick is fine." I said. "Maybe this is the one time that he forgot his phone, big deal. He could be hanging out with some friends."

"That's the thing." Kevin finally stops his annoying pacing then sits beside me on the steps. "He only hangs out with you and Joe, and that weird dude that's always talking about snakes or some shit."

"Why not report it to the police then?"

"He has to be missing for twenty-four hours to be considered a missing person."

"Shit. Well what if-" Just then a black Dodge pulls into the driveway. Kevin immediately knows who it is.

"If Patrick's not with Joe then he definitely has to be missing." Kevin sighs.

Joe gets out of his car and stands in front of us. "Great, Patrick said you'd be here." Joe says in relief.

"You've seen Patrick?" Kevin stands up.

"Yeah, but uh,...okay, I have good news and bad news."

"Good news first." I say while I stand up beside Kevin.

"Well good news is that I know where he is. He's at Trav's supply warehouse and he's unharmed. Bad news is he'll get his fingers broken or possibly killed if you don't pay Trav back in time."

Kevin glares at me then crosses his arms. "So this is your fault."

"No, no it's not." Joe says sternly. "He didn't know, this would happen. It's Gabe's fault that Travie is after Pete, but," Joe glances down at his feet then looks back at us. "But it's my fault that he's missing."

 "What the fuck did you do?" Kevin asks, his voice thick with rising anger.

Joe sighs. "Can I please explain that later? There are other matters that are way more important here." He switches his eyes over to me. "Two-hundred bucks. That's all.

 I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly. "Trav isn't getting shit from me."

"What?" Kevin says. "Just pay the man so I can get my brother back."

"No, it's Gabe's fault all of this happened. Trav shouldn't have sent a fuck up like Gabe out to the alley to run sales, so I'm not paying for their mistakes. I'm all in for getting Patrick out, I won't let anyone hurt him, but Trav isn't getting  _shit_ from me." I ranted angrily.

"Look, I don't care what you do but you'd better get my brother out of there." Kevin crosses his arms.

"I won't let anyone hurt him." I repeated, emphasizing to Kevin through gritted teeth.

"Fine, you guys should get going."

"You're not coming?" Joe asks.

"Nah, you two are the reason he's there so you two are going to get him out."

"Alright, I'll call you once we get him out so keep Patrick's phone with you." I turn my attention to Joe. "We have to go to my place, my roommates could help us."

"Sounds good to me." Joe says then heads over to his Dodge.

I assure Kevin that we'll be sure to get his brother out as safely as possible, he nods then goes inside as Joe and I pull out of the driveway.

"So," Joe says once we're stopped at a red light. "What's up with you and Patrick."

"Nothing, why?"

"Patrick told me that he's known you for less than a week and that you're always at his house and, by what I saw the other day, you're around him more than you are your own roommates, that you live with, I might add."

"So what?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed but other than you, I'm Patrick's only friend. He doesn't like to let anyone get too close but Patrick and I have been friends since we were, like, babies. But you've known him for...what, five days? And you've spent the night at his house, _and_ he made you breakfast." The light turns green and Joe continues to drive. "Patrick must see something special in you, he's also really good at reading people. He probably knows your life story without you telling him shit."

The thought of that alone was kind of creepy.

"Or maybe you guys are just crushing on each other." He adds.

"Joe, shutup."

"Which is cool, I mean..."

"Joe."

"...you guys would totally have adorable babies."

"Oh my god, shutup!" I can feel the heat rising to my face.

Joe just laughs a non-sincere 'sorry' then continues driving.

We pull up to my building and Joe parallel parks by the curb out front.

 We go up to my apartment and I knock loudly.

"Who is it?" Brendon asks from the other side.

"Pete."

I could practically see Brendon roll his eyes through the door. He opens up and says, "Seriously, dude, take your fucking keys whenever you leave." He says, obviously annoyed as he steps aside and lets us in.

Ryan's curled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket and looks as though he's about to fall asleep.

"Hey, I've seen you before." Ryan says to Joe. "You were here with that guy with all the tattoos who was looking for Pete."

I turn to glare at Joe. "You work for Trav?"Joe didn't answer. His silence told me everything but I wanted to hear him say it.

"Answer me." I said quietly but when he continued to stay quiet I shouted, "Fucking answer me!" Ryan and Brendon both jumped.

"Yes, I do. But I just want to help my friend." He simply puts.

"Um, does anyone was some uh... coffee?" Brendon asks awkwardly.

"I'll take some." Joe says happily as if nothing happened. I don't get this kid.

Brendon disappears into the kitchen to prepare the brew.

Joe and I both sit beside Ryan on the couch. When Brendon reemerges from the kitchen he hands Joe a mug of coffee and sits upon the arm of the couch next to Ryan. We fill them in with the current situation and they agree to help us out, because they both really like Patrick. Joe says he knows a couple of people who could help as well then he makes a few calls, they agree to help and say they'll meet us here tomorrow morning.

 

Patrick's POV 

These ropes are tearing at the skin of my wrists; terrible rope burn. It feels like a fire was set to my open wounds with gasoline and lit matches.

Someone by the name of Travis was here earlier. I couldn't see his face though, he didn't pull my blindfold down as Joe did so he must've wanted to keep his identity hidden.

_"You'd better hope your friend comes for you 'cause if he's late, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head."_

_I shrugged. "If he shows up, great. If he doesn't then I won't care."_

_"You want to die?"_

_"Dearth doesn't scare me. If it happens, it happens, I won't refuse it."_

_Travis scoffs. "You've got some balls, kid."_

 

Pete's POV

Joe crashed at our place that night. The next morning I woke to find that everyone was fully clothed, awake, and there were a few extra bodies that I didn't recognize. I groggily shuffled to Ryan and Brendon's bedroom and went into the master bathroom to shower.   Once I'm done I grab a pair of Brendon's black jeans from his dresser because I really don't want to wear the grandpa clothes that occupy Ryan's wardrobe. I toss on my red hoodie then return to the living room. _  
_

"Hey, Pete." Joe greets me as I shut the bedroom door. Two other guys are standing by his side. "There's some people I want you to meet. This is Andy,” He gestures to the man on his left. The colorfully tattooed, reddish-brown haired dude with glasses. He looks intimidating enough...

Andy gives a small wave and says, "Hey."

...but his voice sounds like an adorably soft kitten. It just doesn't fit.

"Andy's our weapons expert." Joe says. "And this is Bob, he helped develop the blueprints for Travie's building. He knows that place inside and out." The blond with the lip ring on Joe's opposite side definitely looks like he could kick some serious ass. But doesn't look like much of an architect.

"I invited Jon" Brendon pipes up. "He's our friend that works at Starbucks."

Jon's a cool guy. He knows absolutely nothing about anything except for coffee, which is good because he makes excellent coffee. We called him 'coffee guy' and it was our official name for him although we knew his real name. This was  first time any of us called him Jon.

"The more the merrier." Joe smiles. 

"We have to be out of here in an hour." Andy announces. He grabs two duffel bags resting on the floor beside the end table and tosses them onto the couch and unzips one. "Everyone gets a duel handgun holster, a bullet proof vest and a shotgun holster." He and Bob begin to hand out equipment. "There's also a knife slot on the handgun holster in case you run low on ammo."

Everyone suits themselves up with their gear, Brendon and Ryan help each other with the vests. Once everything is clicked and strapped into place, Andy goes around and checks to make sure we secured everything correctly. When everything checks out, Joe removes the now empty duffel bags and replaces them on the floor. He then helps Bob and Andy carry four large cases filled with weapons, no doubt. They set the cases on the floor and unlatched the locks on each one, revealing what's inside.

"Everyone gets the same thing." Andy says. "A double barrel shotgun, a hunting knife and two handguns. Everyone also gets an assault rifle but none of them will be the same. So, I'm going to call names, one by one, grab a knife first, then handguns, then shotgun, and I'll give you a rifle last. First up, Brendon."

Brendon walks down the line of cases and picks up each and putting them into their approapriate slot. Andy hands him the rifle and says, "NCM Assault."

"Jon..." He walks down the line. "...Scar H Assault."

Andy continues to call names and various rifles. I received a Bravo Squad Assault, whatever the hell that is.

I look around the room and notice how all of us look military ready but have absolutely no experience with guns, except for Andy and probably Joe and Bob too.

Brendon puts Ryan's shotgun into the holtser across his back and Ryan does the same for Brendon. I put the strap of my rifle over my shoulder, prepared for whatever is necessary.

We're going to get Patrick out of there and we're going to come out in one piece. I hope. But there's no way to avoid it, some of us might die today.

 

(The remainder of this story will be in 3rd person)

 

Joe is the only one who isn't strapped with weapons of any kind. Joe will be 'bait', as Bob explained, since he's the only one of us that Travie trusts. His job is to basically keep Travie and the others occupied, scope out the inside of the building and report back with enemy positions.

Because of Andy's experience with weaponry he'll be guarding the perimeter from the roof of the building across from Trav's with a sniper rifle. Ryan, Brendon, and Jon are to hide out on the rooftop with Andy until they are needed. Because of their lack of expertise they are strictly meant for emergency back up.

Pete and Bob will follow behind Joe and Bob will direct Pete where Patrick is most likely being held.

"I'll go in first," Joe says to Pete. "I'm going to get Trav as far away from you guys as possible.  I'll text Bob once it's safe to enter."  Once Joe goes inside Pete and Bob duck behind Joe's Dodge.

Joe walk through the building to find Travie, he spots him near the back by the shipment area talking to Gerard and Frank.

"Hey guys." Says Joe. "Trav, can I talk to you? It's really important." He says quickly before Frank could even speak anything as simple as a 'hello'.

"Um, alright." Travie says. "You two finish up, another shipment'll be here in an hour." He says to Gerard and Frank as he takes Joe down to his office. Joe sends a quick text to Bob without Trav noticing.

Bob's phone vibrates, he checks it then then tells Pete it's time. They swiftly move from behind Joe's car then go inside. Andy watches them through the scope of his rifle.

Bob leads the way. They walk down a corridor in search of possible 'holding cells' but all of the wooden doors are windowless and unlabeled.

The strap of Pete's rifle was digging into his shoulder despite the layer of material between the two. His hoodie was providing little restraint.

"We'll have to check each-" 

"Wait." Pete interrupts Bob's whispering and comes up with a better, simpler idea. Instead of filling Bob in on details,  he just began knocking on doors, starting with door number one. Bob closely watched Pete's actions then mimicked them, knocking on one of the other doors. 

Pete knocks quietly on a third door. "'Trick, you in there?" He puts his ear to the wood. 

"Pete?" Patrick's voice is muffled but is clearly heard from the other side.

"He's in here." Pete whispers excitedly. 

Bob has his phone in his hand, his expression slightly panicked. "Joe says someone is coming this way."

Without hesitation, they burst into the room to hide. Bob locks the door behind them.

"What the fu-"

Pete slaps his hand over Patrick's mouth and immediately shuts him up. Bob stands closely to the door and listens out.

"Keep quiet." Pete whispers as he slowly removes his hand from Patrick's mouth then whips his knife from the slot on his belt holster.

He slices through the ropes on Patrick's ankles first then the ones on his wrists. Irritated rope burns occupy his milky white skin, the red color screamed heat. Patrick moved the ropes out of the way then slid the blindfold up with trembling hands.

Pete thought for sure that Patrick would be angry with him for getting him into this mess. He would've been smiling ear to ear right now if he didn't feel so damn guilty. But when he saw Patrick's tricolored eyes peek from under the fabric of the blindfold, he wasn't expecting a grin to be plastered on his face. Pete was honestly confused. Then, without warning, Patrick wraps his arms around Pete's neck pulling him into a tight embrace. Most of Pete's guilt dies down but some of it still resides in the pit of his stomach. He closes his arms over Patrick and hugs back just as tight. 

"You're not mad at me?" Pete asks in a small voice, almost child-like.

Patrick pulls back enough to look the older man in the eye but keeps his arms around his neck. "No, why would I be? I knew I'd get dragged into your shit, I just didn't know I'd get pulled down so soon."

"And your okay with the fact that you were kidnapped, threatened to have your fingers broken and possible death all because I didn't want to pay two-hundred dollars?"

Patrick actually laughs at Pete's conclusion. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Guys, shutup." Bob whispered harshly. "You can have a heart warming moment later. We've found Patrick but we didn't _save_ him yet."

Talk about a mood killer.

 It's quiet, Bob hears nothing from the other side of the door. He wants to check to see if the coast is clear but he has to wait for Joe's go ahead. Pete and Patrick are quietly sitting in the corner of the room watching Bob for any type of signal. Nothing happens. Bob then goes to sit in the opposite corner of the room, the door is still locked so they should be safe for now.

Pete's phone goes off. It's on vibrate so the default ring won't make anyone's ears bleed this time. Joe's calling.

"Someone tipped Travie off, he knows where you are. Get out of there now!" Joe shouts. Pete hangs up and puts the phone away.

"Out." Pete scrambles up from the floor and grips Patrick's elbow so he'll follow. "He knows. Out now."

Bob quickly unlocks the door then leads the way down the corridor with the other two close behind. They're almost at the end of the hall before someone turns the corner with a 44 magnum Desert Eagle clutched in their hand. Bob recognizes the other as Gerard, who doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger. The bullet buries itself into Bob's left shoulder. Is difficult to operate a rifle of that size with only one hand so he reaches for one of his handguns with his other hand. But Gerard shoots a second time, this time catching Bob in his left thigh forcing him to down on one knee. Bob waves down the opposite direction with his good arm and yells, "Get that kid out of here."

Without a second thought, Pete turns and runs down the other way and has Patrick's elbow in his grasp. Pete looks back and sees Bob reach for his handgun once more, Pete tears his eyes away before he could see what happened next. They turned the corner and pushed forward not looking back. Pete hears another shot and represses the urge to turn back and help Bob, he doesn't want him to die back there. And if he does, Pete will believe that it's his fault for not going back for him.

They reach another turn off but Pete has no idea where to go, both hallways branch off into two more corridors. They're lost. "Fuck." Pete mutters.

"Hey." A voice comes from behind them, they turn and see a short man with dark hair heading their way. Pete pushes Patrick behind his back to protect him from any possible harm then pulls out one of his handguns and aims it at the dark haired man. The man puts his hands up in surrender.

"What the fuck do you want?" Pete asks.

"I know the way out and I want to help you."

Pete furrows his brow, suspicious of some type of trickery. He cocks the gun.

"Whoa, I mean it. I want to help."

Just then Joe shows up from behind them. "Oh thank god I found you. We-"

Pete doesn't look away or stops aiming at the other man. He probably hasn't even noticed Joe's arrival.

"Dude, what's going on?"

"Says he wants to help us get out." Pete says.

Joe turns to look at the other dark haired man. "Frank?" Gun shots sound off in the distance. "No time to argue," Joe grabs Frank by his shirt the pushes him to the front. "Lead the way."

Countless turns later they wind up at the front of the building but outside there are four other cars that are blocking in Joe's Dodge. "Trav called backup." Frank says. There are also a few bodies smothered in blood lying on the ground, Andy picked off as many as he could but the others are inside. Joe quickly calls Andy.

"Take the others to the back of the building!" He says then hangs up. "Pete, kneel down."

"What, why?"

"Just do it."

Pete does as he's told then Joe snatches the shotgun out of his holster and blasts someone behind them that no one saw coming except for Joe. The person's feet fly off of the floor and they land flat on their back. Joe stands over them and shoots them in the chest a second time just to make sure.

"Go to the back, there's a truck we could drive out of here." Joe says. "I'm going after Travie."

"I'm going with you." Frank says. "You can't go alone."

Joe does't protest. "Alright. Just keep straight and you'll find the truck." And with that Frank walks off with Joe who still has Pete's shotgun in his hands.

"C'mon 'Trick." Pete says then grabs Patrick's hand and heads to the shipment area.

They find the truck without an issue. The two get into the pickup truck then wait for the others.

"That was close," Patrick says. "I almost-"

Pete cuts Patrick off by cupping his soft face in his palms and leaning in, pressing his lips to the younger boy's. It wasn't too much but it wasn't enough either, for Pete that is. Pete has been wanting to do this ever since Patrick invited him to his house the night they met. Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably what others would describe as 'love at first sight' but Pete would describe it as 'possible soul mate'. And they've known each other for five days and in that time they've become closer than Patrick is to his own brother.

Pete breaks the kiss and looks deeply into Patrick's eyes. "Coke has given me more problems than anything I have experienced in my entire life." Pete blurts out. "I want to get off the dust and I want you to get clean with me and I really want to kiss you again. S'that okay?"

Patrick can't get his vocal chords to cooperate with him so he just smiles and nods sweetly, connecting his lips to Pete's this time. 

A tapping sound on the window startles them out of their two man world. Pete turns to see Brendon grinning and waggling his eyebrows on the other side of the glass. Patrick's cheeks turn pink. Pete flips Brendon off and Brendon just laughs.

Ryan, Brendon, Jon and Andy climb into the back of the truck and wait.

Ten minutes pass before anyone shows up. "Guys!" Joe and Frank are coming toward the truck while supporting Bob. Andy and Jon hop out of the truck to help the others. Joe hands him a key and tells him to give it to Pete. Jon hands the keys over then gets back into the truck with Brendon and Ryan. Pete immediately starts the car.

Joe, Frank and Andy haul Bob into the back of the truck. He's badly injured. Andy slaps his hand against the back window signalling Pete to start driving. Pete backs out and they make their escape.

Patrick opens the back window and asks where they're supposed to be going.

"Hospital." Andy says.

"To the hospital, Pete." Patrick informs.

"Got, it."

In the back of the truck, Ryan starts to complain about everything that's happened. "All of us put on all of this military shit so we could jump into a truck?"

"You guys were back up." Andy explains. "Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

"Somebody almost died!" Brendon says.

"Bob's not going to die, its just a scratch." Joe scoffs. "Bob, tell everyone your okay." 

Bob's lying on the bed of the truck with everyone sitting around him and he's fully conscious. He raises his right arm and gives everyone a weak smile and a thumbs up.

"See, he's fine."

"When all this shit blows over, we should get some coffee." Jon suggests.

"Sounds delicious." Brendon says.

Pete grabs his phone out of his pocket as he drove toward the hospital. He hands the phone over to Patrick who looks at Pete questioningly.

"Here," Pete says. "Call Kevin, I'm sure he'd like to hear from you." 

 

 

***One week later***

 

 "No seriously, I was going to shoot you in the face." Pete says. "If Joe didn't show up, I probably would have." Pete laughs.

"Well, that's reassuring." Frank says. 

The whole group is out at Starbucks which is mostly empty except for an elderly couple on the other side of the shop, Jon is behind the counter preparing the last of the coffee for his friends. He has Pete help him carry all of the cups over to everyone. 

Bob was out of the hospital with small scars and two bullets that he put on a necklace around his neck. Bob now walks with a slight limp.

Two tables that were scooted together to make one big table barely fit the flock of guys. Brendon, Ryan, Bob and Andy occupied one table and Pete, Patrick, Jon, Frank and Joe were squeezed together at the other table.

"So, what happened to Trav?" Pete asks Joe.

"We ran all over the place looking for him, but I think he ran away."

"Yeah, he might've taken Gerard with him too. We don't know." Frank says.

"Oh no, man," Andy says as he sips his coffee. "Gerard's dead. I shot him with the sniper through the window of the hallway you guys were in. That's how I got Bob out."

"Is this guy amazing or what?" Bob says. Everyone nods and mutters in agreement.

"Hey, when are you guys gonna be official?" Ryan asks Pete.

Pete glances at Patrick. "Probably whenever Patty decides to bear me a son." Patrick blushes and Pete smiles wickedly when he does.

"Dude, I told you I'm on the pill."

"Well get off of it."

Patrick shoves Pete playfully and the two begin to laugh along with Ryan and Brendon who think they're just too cute.

"Man I told you, you guys would make adorable babies." Joe says.

 

***

 

Joe later opened his own music store that sold everything from instruments and records to band tees and posters. He hired everyone as his new employees. Jon continues to make coffee but not at Starbucks. He works for Joe now so he makes coffee in the employee lounge every morning. Bob sells custom made instruments in the store, which are a big hit.

Pete and Patrick got an apartment together and got a dog that Pete insisted they name Hemingway. The couple is also currently drug free.

Brendon and Ryan got engaged, Ryan proposed to him at a concert where Brendon's favorite band was playing.

Frank does piercings in a room in the back of the store to make an extra buck. He enjoys his job.

 Gabe's still a drug dealer, in case anyone was wondering.

**-End.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might not be as good as the others but I wanted to see this story through to the end. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading my shitty story! :) ♥


End file.
